


It's been written in the scars on our hearts

by blue_scribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Heart Syndrome, Hurt Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mentions of homophobia, Soulmates, mentions of abuse, stress cardiomyopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_scribbles/pseuds/blue_scribbles
Summary: Cas and Dean have one of their more heated arguments, when Cas makes the snap decision he can't go on like this, leaving Dean broken hearted.orTwo idiots in love, being total messes for 9k words straight.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	It's been written in the scars on our hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little disclaimer at the start to point out some possibly triggering themes in here, like it's hinted to in the summary as well as the tags, this work includes descriptions of a heart attack, so if you're sensible to this, or struggle with descriptions of panic attacks, then this might not be for you. Please stay safe!  
> Also I'm not a native english speaker, I'm trying my best, but there will still be mistakes in here. 
> 
> Now to the more fun part (which is just me rambling), this fic was a crackpot idea I had at two AM, based off the song "just give me a reason" by P!nk, because I thought it kinda fit the Destiel dynamic. This is also my first fic in this fandom, yay! Now without further ado, have fun with this little piece.

One moment ago they had still been yelling at each other, arguing about something that, in retrospect, had probably been rather insignificant. Sam had left them to their screaming match long ago, while Dean took out his frustration on the last person who deserved it, all the while knowing exactly what he was doing, even though he was unable to stop any of it.

When this all would be over, he would ask Castiel to forgive him, like he always did. Never verbally though. He should be better, he knew it, but it was just kind of routine at this point. Dean screwed up over and over, getting any stable relationship he ever had into a complete mess, never to recover.

Until now they had managed to hold up, Sam and Cas had always found it within themselves to forgive Dean one more time. And another. And another. Til Dean had pushed his luck too far.

Suddenly Cas fell silent. The last of Dean's words dying on his tounge, leaving a rotten taste in his mouth, while their spiteful notes hung heavy in the air. Reality was slowly catching up to him, like snapping out of a fit, and with the damage done the silence was ash in his lungs. Their intense gazes clashed onto another, the first eye contact they had since their fight had begun, Castiel's vibrant blue drowned Dean's faded green out, like an ocean swallowing the coast. While the fight drained out of him, Dean felt so old, hollowed out, so sick of this never ending cycle, centering around him. Cas' eyes held determination, though his voice was only a quiet rumble in the vacuum between them. Making him listen, into the suffocating silence charged from the tension cracking between them. 

“I'm leaving.“

Dean's jaw clenched, his molars grinding onto each other painfully, but it was all he could do to keep him from gasping at the sharp tug in his chest, suddenly emerging.

Dean wished Cas would've just hit him. Beat some sense into him instead of quietly resignating. Dean could handle anger, could handle noise and aggression, punches aimed at him as well as dishes. He had overcome the erratic rebellion of his brother, paired with his father's temper and walked out fine. But what he had never been one to just ride out was disappointment. He needed the fight and the movement, to feel somewhat in control, to have something to retaliate to. Silence meant disappointment, meant uncertainty about what's to come, meant cold, calculated punishment, or just being neglected. Not that he hadn't deserved it, if anything, it had taught him to be good enough to avoid that possibility.

Nowadays, things rarely worked the way his father had taught him, and Cas had always been one to defy his father's image.

Dean didn't ask for an explanation, he didn't say goodbye, or begged him to stay, he just watched as Cas turned and headed for the door, leaving behind their history, and with it Dean himself, maybe this time for good.

_Don't!_ He wanted to shout, wanted to reach for him, to keep him here with just his touch. Terrified of overstepping boundaries and of what would happen if he let go of his composure for just a second, rendered Dean unmovable, while his eyes followed Cas' back, up the stairs to the door. He found himself paralyzed. The door fell into it's locks with a heavy click and Dean was alone, the room spinning with his disbelief.

Cas couldn't leave him. Not him. Anyone but him. Dean was used to noone wanting him in their life, he was a mess and he didn't deserve anyone that had stayed so far but he couldn't lose Cas. His single best friend, his... Dean swallowed, paralysis giving way to panic and he could feel himself shaking, still locked in place, mouth pressed into a thin line, no noise escaping.

Cas was gone for good now, like Mom and Dad and Sam and Joe and Ellen and Ash and... Dean let out a long exhale, before drawing another trembling breath in, pressing his nails into the palm of his hand, desperate to draw blood, to no avail. He was being abandoned, without any means to stop it, because _he_ was the problem. Cas had every right to run the other way and never look back. Even if the thought of it was killing Dean already. Without Cas, it would be Sam and him again but how could he know that Sam wouldn't decided to follow into Cas' footsteps as well? Why shouldn't he, when he realized how badly Dean had fucked up? 

Dean slumped forward, trying to work through the shock, wrapping his fingers tightly around the back of the chair he was hunching over. It was better that way anyway, maybe like this, Cas could lead a peaceful life, could be free of the hunter's curse and got to have a family of his own? far away from Dean,  _without_ him. In an attempt to calm down, he shuffled restlessly, his knuckles turning white.

Now that the air was clear, Sam dared to step back into the living room.

“You two finished?“ He asked just to make sure.

Dean nodded lamely, pushing his back straight under Sam's watchful gaze.

“Where'd he go?“ Sam probed further, to which Dean only replied with a dismissive:

“Out.“

This still didn't seem to satisfy his brother though.

“When will he be back?“

Dean shook his head wordlessly. His lungs seized at the words that wouldn't leave his mouth, his chest feeling tight and constricting with the emotions trying to drown him.

_Keep it in, keep it in, don't make a drama out of it, it's fine, you're fine._

His heart pounded wildly with his efforts of pushing back the inevitable feeling of loss, creeping up his spine.

“What? Why- What happened?!“

Sam stammered, startled at the strange news. Dean's head felt muddy with panic, as the thoughts spiraled on. Would that be it for the both of them? Had Dean burned out and wasn't worth keeping, even for his brother? His heart hammered against his ribs, as if it tried to break them and Dean's arm felt strangely numb.

Still supporting himself on the chair, Dean raised his head to face his brother, blood draining quickly from his features and fixing Sam with red rimmed eyes that had written guilt all over them. Hesitantly Dean moved to open his mouth, his jaw heavy and feeling tense from grinding his teeth. But the moment he wanted to push the words out, a sudden pain knocked the wind out of him, leaving him to gasp for air, knees buckling. 

At first Dean couldn't pinpoint the exact source of the pain, still in shock from having his breath cut short, but as the second wave hit, his senses zeroed in on the stabbing pain in his chest, shooting a stinging jab up his left arm. Faintly somewhere in the back of his mind Dean recognized that feeling, from when Bobby had gambled away decades of his lifetime. A rush of cold sweat perspirated on his forehead, while Dean was simultaneously gripping at the back of the chair he had been leaning on and at the left side of his chest, trying to keep the pain in check, while keeping him from tumbling over and putting Sam at risk of going into cardiac arrest as well.

“Sammy...“

Dean choked out, hoping that his little brother could somehow make it all better. Apart from his heart feeling like it's tearing down the middle, an ever increasing pressure was tightening around his lungs, making it impossible to draw in air, which added to the panic that was currently drenching him in cold sweat and vertigo. Dean's knees went weak for a short moment, jerking his frame hard enough for him to lose his balance, then he fell.

“Dean!“

His brother called out and before he could hit the floor, he felt his brother's arms easing him to the ground. Clutching his functioning hand in Sam's hideous flannel. Dean panted for air, like a fish out of water, his lungs contracting under his heart's malfunction, while he was attempting to force words past the lump in his throat, which just resulted in him pathetically choking on his own spit.

Somewhere far off Sam was talking at him, telling him to breathe, to hold on, to stop tearing at his shirt, that he couldn't move him like that, but Dean's muscles locked in his panic, and letting go of Sam felt like the end of the world, though he wasn't sure if he was more afraid of himself disappearing or Sam. Dean's world only consisted of the pain shooting through him and the fact that he was slowly but surely suffocating. All the while his brother did the important work, hoisting him up and despite struggling with his paniced writhing, still managing to drag him out of the bunker.

If it wasn't for the onslaught of sensations that were currently making Dean feel like he was dying, he might've felt the shaking in his brother's steps, or the tremble in his hands, while Sam went through the motions, doing what must be done, with no regards for his own bone-chilling terror.

Reaching the street, Dean was close to passing out, hanging off Sam's shoulder, his eyelids fluttering while his heart still burned and palpitated. Sam whispered more to himself than to Dean, while sinking to the ground with him, long having fumbled for his phone and calling an ambulance.

“It's gonna be okay. It's all good.“ Dean could make out through the haze.

The sky was a bright white, blinding Dean who was lazily letting his eyes shift over the sight above him, sometimes a tree branch sliced through the bright mass, looking almost black. Dean still had one hand dug into Sam's shirt, the only thing grounding him, while his vision got fuzzy and his thoughts drifted back to Castiel. Cas who he didn't get to farewell, who he never told just how much he needed him, who was gone and left him with a failing heart. Under any other circumstances Dean would've send a last prayer his way, not for salvation, or forgiveness, but just to feel his presence for one last time, to revel in the warmth that spread in the pit of his stomach when his soul reunited with the angel that had touched it gently back in hell and mended it whole again. But with how things were now Dean wasn't sure if Cas would even want that, so he didn't, his heart aching just the slightest bit more and then the blinding sky shifted into darkness. 

The phone pressed to his ear, 911 on the line, Sam couldn't help to think bitterly about how much easier this could've been if Cas was still there, so much so that Sam was growing more upset by the second, not sure if he should be loathing Dean for fighting, Cas for leaving, or himself for not stepping in.

By the time the ambulance arrived Dean had went limb in his brother's grasp, breath laboured and pulse erratic. The voice on the phone told Sam to put him into recovery position, but now that his brother's bruising clutch had eased, Sam was the one holding on, pressing him tight against him. Sam was spared the first aid, when the sirens drew closer and were suddenly blaring loudly next to the pair.

* * *

When Dean came to, he wasn't in hell, or heaven, or purgatory for that matter. All pain was gone and all feeling with it, as Dean pried his eyes open, he found himself in a hospital room. Feeling the tug of suction electrodes and needles, while he tried to move, thus making him aware of the machines he was hooked to, as well as the transfusion in the back of his hand. His heart was now pounding steady again, strong and calm, unlike the frantic fluttering Dean remembered from time before, that made him swallow dry just thinking about it.

“Dean! You're awake already.“

Sam exclaimed having entered his hospital room a second ago, holding a cup of crappy coffee and for short moment Dean anticipated him dropping it, until the stuttering of his breath startled him out of the memory.

_God how he hated hospitals._

“How're you feeling?“ Sam asked, after having settled down on one of the plasticky chairs placed next to his bed.

“Nothing much, thanks to the juice box, I guess.“

Dean gave truthfully nodding to the infusion dripping saline and whatever pill the doctors had popped in there, into his bloodstream. His breath could move smoothly again, his chest not feeling like it was being crushed anymore, what he didn't mention was the exhaustion that probably came with your heart taking a day off.

Trying to avoid an akward silence Dean resumed:“What'd the docs say? Do I need to eat kale for the rest of my life now?“

_Is Cas here too?_

His head supplied as unhelpful as ever, urging him to ask Sam, but Dean resisted, not willing to risk hearing something he didn't want to. Sam's face twisted between amusement and sorrow at his ill-timed joke, before he decided to ignore it altogether.

“They're not sure yet to be honest, they said they'd need to run some tests once you're awake.“

“Great. Means I'll be stuck here then.“

Dean groaned, dragging his right hand down his face, itching to just get out of the hospital so he could brood in peace and maybe give Cas a call to apologize without sounding like a damsel in distress.

“Dude, this is serious! You scared the shit out of me, so don't think I'll just let you walk out of here like nothing happened.“ Sam scolded him, softening his voice halfway through, trying to calm himself.

“First of all: We don't even know if it really was one. And second I wasn't suggesting to ditch, hospitals just suck ass man and I'm not really eager to be stuck in one.“

Dean tried to justify himself, gesturing wildly, the needle in his left arm pinching. But Sam still didn't look convinced.

_The bastard just knows him too well._

If he wouldn't be supervising him, Dean would've bailed the moment he got there. Worrying about his health had never really been in his books, with his little brother and now the feathery idiot to take care of.

“It sure looked like one though, so you do what you're told for once, or I'll get Jody involved.“

At the threat of Jody Mills, Dean sighed in defeat, mumbling a disgruntled:“fine.“

And let himself sink in the pillows again. Still trying to digest all of that Sam picked up his coffee and started sipping at it in the silence that engulfed the two. Once again Dean's thoughts drifted towards his best friend, averting his face from his brother's gaze, he shifted his interest past the heart monitor to the window.

The sky was still white with the beginnings of winter, dipping the streets in a cold light that made everything seem dulled and grey, but the thing that he missed most in those winter months, Dean found, was the vivid blue stretching above them. Despite the medication his heart suddenly gave a longing tug, as he lamented not only the sky but also the hole that had opened up inside him ever since Cas had left, taking something with him that Dean couldn't put his finger on just yet.

Dean closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about it, cursing himself for being such a plaintive idiot, with him actually considering to just sob in front of his brother, in the fucking hospital, even though Sam had already been through enough stress without his emotional angst on top of it. So he pushed it down again, while his heart constricted painfully, the ECG giving a few irregular beeps before resuming it's normal rhythm. Maybe the painkillers were already wearing off?

Slowly coming out of his blues and with Sam still trying to choke down the disgusting coffee, Dean faintly heard the door to their room open and the quiet shuffle of clothes. At first, Dean assumed it was a doctor, coming to finally start with their examination but as the silence grew and Dean began forming some snarky remark about his creepy staring, curiosity finally got the better of him. Slightly irritated by the intruder Dean turned around then, just to come face to face with Cas.

_Son of a bitch._

Blindsided he flicked his eyes to Sam, who was innocently mothering his lukewarm beaverage, before admitting:“I called him when you were still out of it. Thought he'd want to know.“

He fixed his stare back on Castiel in disbelief, who was standing lost next to Sam's seat, flexing his fists nervously.

“Did you?“ Dean asked, his voice wildly wavering between being accusing and hopeful.

But instead of answering the question Cas suprised him yet again:“Dean I'm sorry. I feel like all of this is my fault. If I had just been there, I could've helped...“

Cas broke off drawing in air, pushing his chest out in preparation for more blame to be put upon him. But Dean just shook his head, lowering his face, eyes fixed on the ground in shame.

“Cas don't. It's fine. I should be the one to apologize, I was being a douche and I get it, if you need to leave, if that's what makes you happy, I don't wanna hold you up. You don't need to make up for anything.“

Carefully Dean searched the angel's face for a hint of approval, or the opposite. Their eyes locked, all anger and resignation from before gone and Dean felt like Castiel had swallowed the summer's sky whole, as his eyes beamed at him, healing whatever had broken in his heart with just a glance. If Dean hadn't known better, he'd say all he could see right now, written all over Castiel's open face, was love.

“It doesn't, make me happy, that is. I'm worried Dean, just like Sam. And of course I want to help but not out of guilt because even if Sam hadn't called me, I'd still care. I fear I'm not able not to.“

The pair swallowed heavily, trying to choke down whatever feelings were welling up at Castiel's confession, their teeth still held words unspoken but noone of them considered letting them go just yet.

“Cas-“

Just wanting to feel the syllable roll off his tounge, Dean let the word sit in the thick air between them for a moment. Castiel held his gaze still, never having strayed from it during his speech but now that Dean had spoken his name like it was sacred, the tips of his ears turned rosy and his fingertips tingled with the graze of Dean's soul.

“Thank you.“ He finished, the words meaningless in contrast to how much devotion had already been put in his name alone, but Castiel just nodded.

Shortly after, the bubble the two of them had build for themselves was popped. Not by Sam, who had been dutifully sitting to the side, already used to Dean and Cas' unashamed eye-fucking, but by the doctor stumbling in the now slightly crowded room.

After a short period of general confusion, Dean was swiflty seperated from his family to have a throughout examination and sent back just as unceremoniously afterwards with no further explanation, except for that they'd still need to monitor him until they had results.

They spend the time being in Dean's room, due to him not really being able to leave it with the ECG and the oximeter attached to him.

So Sam recounted the incident for Cas and bought yet more coffee for everyone besides Dean, who was quickly shut down with a:“You do remember why we're here, or do we need to get your brain checked next?“

So he let it rest for now, and worried more about his future diet, while Sam talked about everything and nothing, probably trying to have some outlet for the stress. Dean and Cas on the other hand, were content with listening and ignoring the awkward tension between them like usual.

In the evening, the doctor from before came back, looking more tired but less tense at the late hour and greeted the trio with a sanatized hand shake.

“Well good news for you Mr. Winchester, it's safe to say that this _wasn't_ a heart attack. Though the symptoms are similiar and definitely necessary to seek treatment for.“

The doc seated himself, exhaling deeply as a joint or two popped back into place.

“To make it short, you had a stress cardiomyopathy, more commonly known as broken heart syndome.“

As the last words fell from the doctor's lips, Dean couldn't help but blurt:“Woah, excuse me, a- a what now?!“

Dean had visibly leaned forward, bringing his clipped index finger up into the air, hushing his collocuter. The doctor didn't seem irritated at Dean's rude interception though and inhaled deeply to explain.

“broken heart syndrome. It's a temporary condition affecting the heart, manifesting in heart attack-like symptoms, it's not as severe as a real heart attack since there's no actual blockage in arteries or the like, but it's still dangerous and can cause several complications. In this case you've been rather lucky, so to say. Though I would still advise you to reduce your stress levels.“

Now that overstepped several lines for the older Winchester, he wasn't here to talk about his goddamn feelings, or have some wanna-be shrink make assumptions about his life.

“I am definitely not _stressed._ I'm fine. The only thing I'm stressed about is why my vital organs don't seem to be doing their dang job.“ Dean snapped.

“I don't understand what all of this has to do with me being stressed.“

Okay so maybe he was overreacting, and maybe this wasn't really helping with underlining his point, but all of this felt like a bad joke,

_broken heart syndom my ass_ ,

what angsty teenager had come up with this and decided it'd be fun to embarrass him with it?!

The doctor just looked at him as if he was a toddler throwing a fit and he knew he was the bigger person, which pissed Dean off even more.

“According to your files and the information your brother provided, you don't have any preceding conditions or illnesses that could've triggert the syndrome and our tests also suggest that an emotional stressor was most likely the cause. Stress cardiomyopathy is known to appear in people suffering from constant anxiety, or after extrem emotional or physical stress. For example, a breakup, an argument or grief.“

_Oh._

Totally dumbfounded, Dean's head froze with a start, his jaw probably hanging open. Until he was overhelmed with a sudden sense of absurdity.

_This is ridiculous,_ he thought.

He had endured so much suffering, he'd literally been to hell and back, had seen more crap than he could fanthom and all of that didn't manage to give him a heart attack (mostly) but a fucking argument should?! Impossible.

“Excuse me but that can't be right.“ He objected.

The doctor, on the other hand, didn't pay much heed to him, just retaliating:“That's the diagnosis, if you like it or not.“

Proceeding with turning off the machines and unhooking him from the same. With no regards for the depressing atmosphere that dominated the space otherwise, Dean began to snicker in disbelief, shaking his head, until the doctor had left again, telling him that he was free to go. Sam and Cas though, didn't look as amused as Dean felt, their brows drawn thight and mouths frowning, overall displeased with Dean's attitude.

“Do you care to elaborate maybe?“ Sam interrupted him, ever so serious.

“Do none of you think that this is totally ridiculous? Just remember all the shit we've already got through, why would anything after that be worth kicking the bucket for? Sounds witchy to me if you ask me.“

Dean was wildly looking between Sam and Cas, searching for some approval, so he wouldn't be deemed totally crazy.

“Dean, our whole life is constant stress! Don't you think this is just the logical consequence of never talking about your feelings?!“ Sam exclaimed loudly, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

“No, I think he may have a point there.“ Castiel suddenly stepped forward, squinting his eyes and leaning his head to the left in curious consideration.

_Oh God they're both stupid._

Sam thought rolling his eyes and pinching his nose to keep him from flipping a table.

“See!“ Dean added in triumph.

“Maybe if I heal you, I can detect any magical marks that could be left.“ Cas spoke to Dean before turning back to Sam, who was not about to hit himself in the face anymore and granted the two of them at least a little bit of credibility.

He wasn't giving Dean the satisfaction of admitting to it though, so Sam stayed silent just giving Cas a look that expressed his agreement. Taking the hint, Cas joined Dean at his bedside, both sitting on the edge of the mattress only inches apart. A little thrown off his rhythm, Dean turned to Cas with a questioning look, but all he could see of Cas' face was the black tuft of curls, as his head was bowed in concentration, focusing on Dean's chest before he reached for it with his flat palm. Through the thin fabric of his hospital gown Castiel's hand radiated a comfortable warmth that spread on his sternum with a tingling sensation and Dean subconsciously relaxed into the touch, supressing the urge to reach for his best friend and keep him close.

Without warning a white glow emerged from between them and Dean felt, like so many times before when Cas had healed him, how his soul glowed bright and hot, all torment and pain vanishing for a blissful moment, as Cas' grace cursed through his body, enveloping him with a sense of safety and wholeness, like it had back in hell, when Cas had first touched him and put him back together with patience and care. It had been such an act of tenderness, that ever since Dean always thought of his touch as home, something only Sam was able to evoke inside him. For a moment all he could feel was Cas and something like love was beaming into every corner of him.

Until his heart gave an anguished twist, like a starving leech on a petri dish, and Dean's breath died in his throat. Curling forward, Dean instinctively clasped his hand on Cas' shoulder, while the burning pain drove tears to his eyes.

“Cas!“ He tried to commune his state briefly.

“I'm sorry Dean, I just need a little bit more-“ Castiel's face was scrunched up, his eyes closed tightly, as he pushed on.

But Dean's heart wouldn't budge, still cramping like it tried to turn itself inside out. As the pain intensified Dean could barely hold himself up, the hand grabbing Castiel's shoulder doing nothing to keep him from further falling forward, his forehead brushing up against the angel's worn out button up, while thin tears trickled over his cheeks.

“Cas stop! You're hurting him!“ Sam yelled,

lunging forward to pull Cas off but before he could reach them Castiel gasped like he'd been punched in the gut and jolted violently, jerking his hand from Dean's chest and instead clutching his own torso, the other shooting out to cling to Dean's other wrist, still resting on his knee, slightly damp with a sheen of cold sweat.

Meanwhile Dean's body had left all strengh and he was supporting himself with his brow on Cas' collarbone. Even though the pain was gone, Dean shook slightly and drew in careful, laboured breaths. His face was slightly wet with tears and he felt terribly spent, so much so that he didn't dare move, with fear of tipping over for good. In the aftermath of the shock, Castiel's touch was comforting and grounding, if he'd be allowed he would want to sink further into him, but Dean didn't yield, he never did. Instead he stayed still, breathing in the angel's scent, which was a mixture of musk, milk and honey soap and something burned, though Dean couldn't say what. Cas trembled as well, he could feel it in the wrist, he was encircling gingerly with his rough fingers.

The pair simply sat there for a minute, just clinging to one another and catching their breath, before Sam broke the silence, hovering beside them in alarm.

“Guys, are you okay?“

Only then did they let go, a little repenant at the loss of contact, but not complaining anyway.

“Yeah, I guess.“ Dean reassured, a little dizzy, making his brother's shoulders sag infinitesimally.

“What just happened?!“ Came the next question, this one more aimed at the angel than Dean.

“I'm not sure actually. There's something... _reacting_ to my magic, it seems to be bound to his heart, but I couldn't identify it.“ Cas explained straight-faced, ever practical, with no regards for Dean who sat still far too close to the angel and was blushing furiously at the cheesy wording.

“You mean like a curse?“ Sam sounded baffled,

_bitch,_ Dean commented internally, as if Dean would bite the dust for some romcom cliche!

“No, a curse I could lift, this has to be something stronger, ethereal perhaps.“

Cas speculated, facing Dean once again, focusing exclusively on his chest area, which made him feel just a little bit self-conscious, but Dean just shook his head, deciding to counter the feeling with a flippant remark.

“Since when do angels care to give people heart conditions?“

“They don't. At least most of them don't-“ Castiel paused for a second, obviously thinking hard, trying to come up with a useful theory.

Dean on the other hand was drawing a total blank, too distracted by their close vicinity but with no intention to change that for the time being. Their knees were barely touching and Cas' hand rested innocently halfway on Dean's own, though he doubted that the angel even noticed, with his general disregard for Dean's personal space. Dean, on the other hand, did, especially cause the angel's cologne still lingered beside him, coming with his body warmth, so Dean was way more occupied with trying to find out what was behind the burned smell.

“Unlike cupids.“ Sam concluded, maybe a little too enthusiastic for Dean's comfort, since it made just a little too much sense.

“Possibly. But I've never heard of a homicidal cupid.“ Cas added, scratching the spot behind his ear with one finger.

“And going by the the little experience we have with them, I doubt they could even try, the last one was almost disgustingly nice.“ Dean shuddered at the thought, being embraced by a random naked guy really wasn't on his kink list and he didn't look forward to repeating that experience.

“Looks like they're our only lead for now, so we should at least give it a shot.“

Sam plotted, intruiged by the whole affair, while Dean was both desperate for a better explanation than 'your heart is broken', and afraid that the alternative would be even more cheesy. Seeing with how things were going, he strongly suspected it would be the latter.

“Great, so we what? Wait till valentines day? Or do we just creep at some poor saps like the great trio of voyeurism?!“ Dean scoffed sarcastically.

“Of course not. If we actually got something that was marked by them, I'm sure I can summon one.“

Cas retorted, rolling his eyes just the tiniest bit, as if the solution had been painfully obvious. So Dean elbowed him in the side lightly, just enough to twinge under the layers of clothes.

“Ey, do I look like an ethereal magics encyclopedia?“ Dean grumbled, the smile underneath clear as day in his voice.

“You don't generally resemble any book I know off, no.“ Cas got up off the bed for good, before he fixed him with a warm stare, giving away that he was clearly aware of his own ignorance towards Dean's filigreed wording.

His chest was warm with the fondness he felt in that moment for Cas, as he cracked him a cheeky smile, getting up himself to get dressed again, while Sam chuckled silently at the exchange, escorting Cas out the door to give Dean some privacy.

* * *

Luckily Sam had been as thoughtful as to drive the impala to the hospital, unscathed thank god, so getting to the bunker was no problem and even though driving only took them fifteen minutes, when they arrived Cas was already out cold in the back.

“Guess he shouldn't have overexerted himself like that after all.“ Sam mused

“Damn well he shouldn't have, that hurt like a bitch, thought he was killing me for good now. Would've been preferable to 'Death by middle aged man in diapers' though.“ Dean complained, rubbing his sternum absentmindedly.

“Tell me about it, I had to watch you two be all touchy-feely.“ Sam chuckled his libs pulling into a crooked smile, while he opened the impala's door and started to climb out of his seat.

“Oh shut up!“ He snapped back at him, over the car's roof, levelling his voice as to not wake Castiel in the back.

To have him in the equation right now wouldn't do this conversation any good. Both of them shut the doors quietly and Dean made his way to the back to wake up the slumbering angel. With one knee on the seat and the other planted firmly on Baby's floor he leaned over the middle seat to the lump of trenchcoat and tousled hair that layed sunken against the opposite window. His free hand that had been held by the same just minutes before, now came up to Cas' shoulder shaking him gently, while Dean supressed the urge to comb it through the dark mob of hair, straightening in out.

“Wake up sleepy-head. Don't think I'm gonna carry you to bed.“ He rumbled calmly.

But Cas only did stirr after he had shaken him some more, fluttering his eyes open again, looking even more tired.

“He's alive!“ Dean jubilated, starting to pull himself back out of the confining space, while Cas tried to catch up.

Sliding over the seats towards the already opened door, Dean did take pity on his confused friend and offered him a hand, which Cas took thankfully, swaying a bit on his feet still.

“I'd say you better sleep this one off some more, we need you ready and set tomorrow after all.“

Dean kept talking, more to his own amusement than to actually hold a conversation but Castiel didn't seem to mind, just nodding along and following him to his bedroom, where Dean ultimately left him to his own devices, assuming that he would still be able to find his own bed. By now Dean was smarter than to let a half-asleep angel wander the halls unsupervised.

* * *

The next day, when all three of them had finally gotten out of bed, postponing that towards noon, thanks to Cas' powernap, they gathered in the main room to review their plan. Sam and Dean sat around the map table, while Cas was hunched over several books and texts, explaining their next steps for the summoning ritual.

“That sounds... surprisingly easy for a change.“ Dean concluded, getting a raised eyebrow from Cas in response, to which he shrugged nervously, though neither cared to comment.

“As far as I see, we have all we need here. Besides, it's just a cupid so what could go wrong?“ Sam intervened.

“I will put that on your tombstone, when a murderous cupid has slaughtered us all.“ Dean remarked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“Dean's right. Even though I never encountered an especially dangerous one, cupids are still not as weak as you may think, so minimal precautions should be in order.“ Cas explained, looking sternly at the papers in front of him.

“So with some holy oil, we should be good, shouldn't we?“ Sam asked, getting up from his seat, while looking enthusiastically between Castiel and Dean.

Dean's head turned to Cas with a questioning look.

“Yeah that should be enough.“ He agreed, shutting the book he had been skimming with a thud, before looking up expectantly.

An hour later and all the preparations had been made, as the three stood in the bunker's basement, spreading a line of holy oil in a circle, while Cas mixed the ingredients in one of their numerous metal bowls.

“Okay, the spell's ready.“ He announced, having just dropped the sage leaves into the mixture under Sam's watchful gaze.

“Sam I need you to stand ready with the lighter, and Dean needs to get over here.“

He instructed them, making the two shuffle into position. Sam holding the burning lighter in his hand, while Dean stood nervously next to Cas and the bowl. The latter stretched one hand out, hovering it over his mixture, while the other one came up to Dean's chest, laying itself flatly against it. Dean took a deep breath before Cas closed his eyes and started to recite the formula, mumbling something in enochian. As the incomprehensible words left his mouth, a soft glow lit up his eyelids that spread in entwined ornaments down his face and disappeared under his shirt collar. Castiel was undisturbed by all of this, focusing on the words only, while Dean eyed the pattern warily that creeped up the fingers of the hand on his chest.

Dean's breath left him in a rush, when it had finally reached him, a powerful warmth gleamed over his ribcage, snaking it's way inside, until it was suddenly pulling, tugging at his heart, while the mark on his soul burned ever hotter, pushing and pounding against his insides with longing. None of that was painful though, he wasn't feeling like he was dying, nor was his heart breaking, or his soul yearning to be fixed once more, it was a cathartic kind of pain, like his body was stitching itself back together, like hugging Cas felt after he had believed him dead, they both sqeezing just a bit too hard in an attempt to comfort and be comforted.

Dean's eyes snapped open with a sharp inhale, not remembering when he had closed them, as cold air filled his lungs. Castiel's fingers were glowing white by now and his other hand ignited the ingredients with flying sparks, engulfing the same in blue flames. Cas didn't seem to feel the fire's heat and Dean didn't dare move, in fear of disrupting the ritual.

The spell spilled over Cas' lips in a continuous stream, melting words together until Dean couldn't make out anymore if he was even breathing. Before he knew it, the incantation broke off with a deafening clash of thunder that shook the dust from the walls. The bunch flinched under the sudden noise, as a bright light rose from the ground, casting the shadow of a huge pair of wings on the dungeon's cement wall. Light fading, the entity slowly took form right before them.

Remembering himself Sam dropped the lighter in a rush, setting the oil ablaze and trapping the cupid in it. In the meantime Dean and Cas had recovered as well, Cas lowering his arms back to his sides, while Dean turned to face his brother sticking close to Cas.

Before them stood a lanky guy, holding himself in clear discomfort at the situation he found himself in, his hands grasping at the slightly oversized flannel he was wearing. And to Dean's relief, he had pants on as well.

“Okay summoning me is one thing, but trapping me?! That's just plain rude!“ He exclaimed, gnawing his lip while eyeing the flames surrounding him.

“Well excuse us, if we're not eager to trust any stray angel crossing.“ Dean pushed his chest out, holding his head high in an attempt to appear brave.

“We're not here to argue brother, we just need some information, this...“ Cas pointed to the ring of flames.

“... Is only a precaution, so if you'd be so kind.“ Cas cut in, stepping halfway in front of Dean, a comforting gesture to the latter.

The Cupid still looked distrusting but relaxed his tense shoulders at Castiel's words.

“You're the one who marked Dean, right?“ Castiel's sound was calm and even.

The cherub shrugged, nodding jittery.

“Could it be then, that your mark is damaged? I couldn't figure out why, but it's making Dean sick, almost killed him yesterday too.“

Cas explained further, the warm glow of the fire draping them in a gloomy light, that made the deep lines on their faces stand out sharply. The Cupid's eyes nearly popped out of his face at the news and he began wildly looking between the three of them, while shaking his head erratically.

“No, No, this can't be. We- I would never kill a recipient! Cupid's marks are never faulty, they're just doing what they're supposed to.“ The Guy rambled, stalking from left to right, picking at the loose skin on his lip.

“So giving me a damn heart attack is just in their manual, or what?!“ Dean snapped, flailing his arms in frustration but the angel just fixed his eyes on him, realization dawning on his features.

“Oh my god, why didn't you say that right off the start?!“ He accused him, as if Dean had just told him he'd run his cat over.

“Why don't you sons of bitches write all that shit down, one is just supposed to know about your feathery asses?!“ He yelled back, fed up with the secrecy and took a threatening step forward, mere inches from the fire while he scowled at the insolent cherub.

The latter, on the other hand, looked utterly scandalized for a second before his face cracked into a teary-eyed grimace, his mouth wobbling.

“Okay Dean, calm down.“ Sam stepped up, pulling him back at his shoulders, until Dean turned away to rub a hand over his face and get his shit together.

“Look we're sorry, he's just a bit shaken from the whole situation that's all. Now, what does this have to do with your mark?“ Sam opened his posture in consolation, trying to comfort the upset Cupid.

“It's not our fault, you know.“ He whined, peeking at Sam under wet lashes.

“What do you mean? I thought you're just matchmaking?“ Leaning his head sideways, Castiel questioned him, in his ever monotonous voice.

Dean too had composed himself by now and was quietly planting himself in the middle between his brother and Cas.

“We do, but in rare cases, when the recipients are soulmates for example, the marks can react intensly at emotional distress. It's been known in history for ages, been written in literature more than once too, that when a lover dies, or breaks up with their partner, the other one's heart can break.“ He recounted, his expression sorrowful.

“The Cupid's aren't the cause of that, we just pair people up, but they have to work the rest out themselves.“ The angel looked earnest now, more mature than he had before, while he was remembering countless lovers that had suffered the same fate.

All the while Dean was left with even more questions, not only was he some chick-flick movie protagonist but also had he been _marked_ with a Cupid's arrow that apparently destined him to be with someone, romantically. He swallowed heavily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel turning to him, but he didn't dare look at the expression he wore.

“So the Doc was right.“ Sam whispered conspiratorially, his jaw slack.

Dean could feel a tingle in his muscles, while all the blood left his face and he was both dizzy and ready to bail. He wasn't in love and he wasn't eager to know who the Cupid paired him up with, no relationship Dean ever had, had ended up good, neither for him nor the women.

“How long?“ He choked out, swallowing compulsively against the tightness in his throat.

“For years. Haven't you realized yet?!“ The Cupid answered simply, which only served to increase Dean's frustration but he just kept taking deep breaths, unmoving, staring down the Cherub in front of him with undeserved anger.

“Dean.“ Came Castiel's hoarse voice, his eyes now fixed purely on him, while the hand that had rested on his heart only minutes ago, was now grasping at the buttons on his shirt.

Dean kept his head straight though, clenching his fists and flexing the muscles in his jaw. Maybe he was just oblivious to it all, or maybe he refused to aknowledge the obvious.

“But that means something must have happened, right before the attack, doesn't it?“ Sam thought out loud, looking around the room, like everyone else was totally daft.

“That can't be right... You've been with us the whole time.“ He deduced further, pausing to recall the prior day once more.

“Sam I don't think-“ Cas intervened, his eyes red-rimmed and voice quivering, but Sam didn't care, just rambling on.

“The only thing that happened that day, was your argument with Cas, so I don't understand-“ With that he came to an abrupt halt, snapping his mouth shut, straightening his spine and turning to the other two, alarm on his face.

“No, no! Don't you dare say it Sam. I am not! I am not in love with Cas.“ Dean broke from his straight-faced demeanor, to yell at his brother, shivering and shaking all over.

In the background Cas clutched at his chest more vehemently, silent tears slipping over his face, while his stomach rolled violently. All this time he hadn't understood what it was that kept drawing him to the Winchester, while everyone had been telling him for ages: A big heart, his love for humanity, having touched and mended this soul, rebelling and dying and falling in every way possible, it all came down to this, to one human, who was inseperately tied to him. Or maybe he was to him.

“How else do you want to explain this then?“ Sam retorted, unimpressed by his brother's denial.

“I don't know, Sammy, I don't- I can't.“ Dean's voice cracked halfway through his sentence, as he buried his head in his hands, trying to ignore how silent Cas had gone, or how everyone kept staring at him with this weird mixture of pity and anger.

“I can't love him.“ He croaked out, shame burning hot in his cheeks, his hands coming down again to ball up beside him.

“Why not?! You've been marked, _the both of you_ , so why deny yourself this happiness?“ Sam argued, uncomprehending.

By now Dean's whole body was tense, his stomach turning and his throat constricting with the thought of how all of this would end.

“Because it's terrifying okay?! Because everything I love, I'll lose and I can't- I can't lose him. Because, Because-“

Dean tried to explain, looking anywhere but his brother, or Castiel for that matter, but nothing seemed to do justice to the turmoil raging inside of him, the sick mixture of years of abuse and codependence and never having had the chance to explore normal relationships, making itself known. Dean was a mess, knowing that a normal life wasn't possible for him anymore.

“It would kill you.“ Cas cut in, serious and with an astounding amount of composure, considering his cheeks were still dampened with tears.

Dean's head snapped back to face him, his nails cutting deeper into his palms, as both of them stared at each other, eyes red-rimmed and all around dishevelled.

“That is what this means, isn't it? The mark and me leaving.“ Cas stated in a questioning tone.

Unsure if he could trust his own judgement. But before he could answer, another voice reached them from across the room.

“Maybe you want to discuss that in private? I'll take care of the rest.“

Dean nodded, turning away from the staring faces and rubbing his burning eyes. Dean gestured Cas to follow him, not trusting his voice. They didn't make it very far though, as Cas caught Dean by the elbow, right when they were out of earshot to stop him from marching forward. The both of them came to an aprubt halt in the middle of the hallway, facing each other, lost in the narrow space.

Cas' gaze was intense, boring beneath his skin and reaching for his soul, familiar and scary all at once, because when would Cas finally find something he couldn't accept? When would he too see the hideous parts Dean hated so much?

“We should talk.“ He stated simply, as if that would make anything less complicated.

Dean closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from shaking, or crying, or generally feeling things, but as he stood there, he felt utterly helpless, he couldn't hide, or run from whatever was unfolding between them, and as much as he was longing to just bend to it all, as much was he terrified of what would happen if he let his guard down for just a second. A stray tear slipped past his closed eyelids and Dean tried not to think about his father too much, of what he would think about him crying and being in love with a man.

Dean found himself nodding, having lost control over his body long ago and the cold feeling of dread was rushing through his insides, anticipating rejection still. The long halls were dead silent, with no sign of his brother coming after them any time soon.

In the darkness of his closed eyes, only a pair of footsteps could be heard, the quiet clacking of heels, approaching him and before he could open his eyes, he could already feel an aura of warmth ghosting over his hands, up his arms, hesitantly, never touching, just spreading a sheet of heat over his body. Not having realized when he had stopped breathing, Dean let out a shaking breath before carefully drawing in another, making him aware of how close they must be.

He could smell Castiel's cologne, mixed with milk and honey and something burned, like he himself was something sacred, something Dean just needed to believe in to be granted forgiveness, something that could make him forgive himself and Dean's soul weeped for this holiness, was starving to give himself to salvation. Cas was the opposite of heavenly, had fallen again and again, had rebelled and betrayed what others would've deemed sacred but to Dean his love had been the only religion he had ever been able to understand. They were both broken and ruined and together they were blasphemy, perfect in all the wrong ways and Dean would gladly be doomed.

When Castiel's hands finally reached his face, Dean's eyes fluttered open, new tears slipping from them but this time Cas was there, cupping his head and tenderly drying his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Dean's shoulders sagged, as he gazed into the deep blue eyes searching his face, his fists unclenched and his stomach settled with the touch of the angel, all thoughts and fears forgotten. His head was suddenly, blissfully empty and Dean couldn't but sink lower into the darks of Castiel's eyes, his heart pounding against his ribcage and his skin tingling with every touch.

His hands slowly wandered up to Castiel's, taking them gently, allowing himself to actually feel them, the soft skin and the rough knuckles, the cracks and wrinkles, the scars and blisters. Castiel's hands held eons of sins and righteousness alike and Dean wondered if he would taint them more, or could soften the ache.

“Cas, I am sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave.“ Dean wanted to tell him everything that was on his mind and still he decided to say anything but.

He watched their joined hands, resting between them peacefully, like they had always known this gentleness.

“I should've never pushed you this far.“ He corrected, feeling the mark on his heart with clarity now, still afraid of what it meant but holding his hands, steady and warm and perfect like puzzle pieces, he knew that he would never be able to let go again.

Cas sqeezed his hands in reassurance, leaning down to catch his gaze. Dean followed his lead gingerly, his green eyes full of insecurity and vulnerability, laying themselves bare to Cas' scrutinity.

“I forgive you, I won't say it's okay, because it's not but you apologizing...“ Cas took a deep breath, clinging to his hands like a lifeline, while he steadied himself.

“... is enough for me to forgive you.“ He ended and Dean suddenly realized how nervous Cas looked, eyes barely holding back tears of his own and hands straining to hold on.

Dean's smile was wet, giving a forced chuckle, while the weight that had rested on his chest since, fell off, increasing the pressure behind his eyeballs.

Cas looked confused at his outbreak but Dean didn't leave him enough time to process and pulled him into his open arms, clinging to the shivering bundle of grace and trenchcoat as the angel buried himself into the crook of Dean's neck sobbing, while the tears rolled over his own face, hot and thick. Their chests were pressed so tight against each other, they could both feel their rapid heartbeat, while their warm bodies forced themselves ever closer.

After a while, they parted again, still holding onto the other's arms as their faces were only inches apart, both a mess of wet lashes, reddened cheeks and swollen lips, while they considered each other. They were well aware of the problems that could arise from this relationship but imagining ever letting go again was just as impossible, their hearts were the same, strings tied and weaved into another, never to be unraveled.

“Dean-“

Castiel wanted to tell him so much, wanted to say how he hadn't been able to put a finger on the nature of their bond. How confused he had been up until now. How he had ached for something he never knew of before.

“Cas-“

Dean whispered, their names a prayer, a holy vow only they knew of, encompassing everything they couldn't put into words, as their hearts beat, strong and in sync, spelling it out for them

_I love you,_

_I love you,_

_I love you._

And like it was everything that needed to be said, they both gave in, eyes halfway closed, inching ever closer, sharing the same air, as they could feel the other's warmth on their skin, until their lips finally met, testing and hesitant, as both explored the new sensation. Cas' chapped lips still somehow soft on his, as they moved slowly against each other. Open mouth pressing prayer after prayer into the other's skin, a vow of devotion, of love and the promise to hold on. And that was all Dean needed for his heart to mend itself, their marks now finally more scar than wound, both neither broken nor bend as they found something greater in each other.


End file.
